Frater Semperis et Soror Dimidium: The Connection
by Deanz
Summary: 'Connection' continues with it's new rating of 'R'. In #41 Dominic searches out Whitney, and Lex makes a plan.


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, save Merrin. The Smallville* characters are owned by Warner Bros. Television and DC Comics. If I have used someone's name it is by coincidence, as this story is purely fiction.  
  
Rating: 'R' for sex, violence, language.yadda, yadda.  
  
Please R&R. All comments all welcome, good or bad.just be prepared for me to comment on your 'comment'.  
  
A/N I apologize for dropping off of the face of the earth. The path in front of me has changed and I'm traveling on it a little differently than before. If anybody out there likes me, wish me luck. I'm gonna need it. THAT. and, now that there is the 'new and improved' FanFiction, (Jeese!), all of my stories will have to be tamed down to an 'R' rating. Maybe it's good that I held off for a while. I'm not looking forward to going back and rewriting all of the juicy stuff out of previous chapters. So, here we go with ANOTHER new section.  
  
I know, I know. I am a royal pain.  
  
  
  
My Thanks:  
  
Jen:  
  
Sorry about your fix but now I'm back on track. And, yes, I totally agree with you about the TW wishes! Life would then be 'oh so' much easier on the eyes. I truly appreciate you taking the moment to send me an e-mail. It makes doing this worth it. Thanks!  
  
Alexa Jones:  
  
Hey, I may not have had you then. . . but I have you now! Thanks for the love and thanks for the. . . you know. . . the little thing you said about the sexy stuff. (Blushing, here.) But unfortunately. the hand has been slapped!  
  
IloveTomWelling:  
  
I love the name you came up with! Way to jump on that. (Don't we wish). I am sorry about the suspense thing. Like I said, I have more time now and there should be a chapter a week, (God, I hope) but. . . BUT if you're talking about the suspense within the story. . . Well, then you're just screwed cause I can't help dishing out the suspense thing, even though, we are getting close to some answers. (hee-hee) Thanks for reading and I hope you don't think that I'm too much of a bitch for making you wait.  
  
UltimateMother:  
  
Hey, I already talked to you. . . Thanks/Thanks/Thanks for the compliment. Keep in touch.  
  
  
  
Also Thanks to qthewildchild, Brennan, and Steeleye2000 (I miss you)  
  
As always, Thanks to Xena my Queen for the beta.  
  
Thanks to Idiot Savant for a few ideas and reminding me of exactly what the 'ratings table' represents. (Whether I liked it, or not!)  
  
  
  
Unbelievable! I had no idea I was on anyone's 'favorites' list. To Idiot Savant, UltimateMother, Steeleye2000, Central Pentacle, Verjiita's Toranoko, and Underdog78234. . . Thank you so much.  
  
OK - Enough of that crap! I would say 'on with the smut', but, shit! Can't do that anymore.  
  
  
  
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Frater Semperis et Soror Dimidium: The Connection Revealed  
  
One = Nine = Nineteen = Forty-One  
  
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Waiting.  
  
Waiting some more.  
  
'Thrud -ump. . . thrud-ump. . . ' Heavy fingers thumping against the cheap desk's cracked and pitted surface. . . Drumming out his impatience with the wait.  
  
Any government controlled operation. so ungodly slow.  
  
Dominic could never comprehend the audacity of the American people. How they paraded around with their 'holier than thou' attitudes without the actual meat to back such a mind-set. Their misplaced pride wouldn't allow them to see just how blind they were. . . how susceptible their country was. Take this unbelievable wait for instance. For a government run organization, it should be top notch. . . and it was anything but. He imagined it was all due to naïveté and inexperience. . . the inability to really open their eyes to see how things were instead of denying it existed. Deny the reality of the cruel world because it will not touch them, always boasting that they are above that sort of thing. But, regardless of the bravado. . .there was incredible potential here. That's why he was here.  
  
Here. . . working for one of the most powerful men he had ever known, here in this pitiful excuse of a 'room', waiting for the goddamned Kansas State Department of Motor Vehicles to get it's sorry ass in gear.  
  
All he wanted was Whitney Fordman's driving record.  
  
Simple information. . . easy in - easy out.  
  
If it will ever let me out. He was becoming increasingly more annoyed as the seconds passed.  
  
He wanted to finish using his laptop because he had to get out of this room.  
  
  
  
The bugs really weren't as bad as he had feared. Kansas wasn't exactly a tropical area, so the bugs were mostly flies and sparrow sized mosquitoes.  
  
  
  
Outside bugs. . . He could deal with outside bugs.  
  
Even Britain has its share of flies on the outside.  
  
  
  
The screen on the laptop changed and he immediately saved the offered information and closed off the 'feeler' he had surreptitiously sent into the DMV. Backing out and covering his tracks, it was now time to go online and investigate the state's school system.  
  
Dominic was relieved that Smallville High was actually in the twenty-second century by owning and operating their own web page. . . loaded with information. . . boorishly bragging on about the students accomplishments.  
  
As if wiping one's own tail was something to be rewarded for. . .  
  
Scrolling down, he discovered the link to The Torch, the school's newspaper and made a mental note to thoroughly examine that in a bit. What he wanted now was to find out just what American NetWare Company could not resist the opportunity to sing it's own praises.  
  
A bit of self-indulgence. . . a free advertisement. . . and there it was at the very bottom. A graphic symbol stylishly revolving within its seemingly innocuous space.  
  
Fuck me. . . V - Lor. A strange name for a company, but it was a name he recognized.  
  
  
  
A break. An actual break in this miserable assignment of monitoring the boss' son.  
  
Ungrateful shit. . .  
  
  
  
Dominic, too, was a 'boss' son', only his father didn't give a rats ass about his heir. Not like Lionel Luthor did for Lex.  
  
The fact that Alexander Luthor disregarded and disrespected the man that was his father incensed Dominic. An ungrateful trait. . . the inability to 'honor thy father'.  
  
That is, unless 'the father' writes you out of his will & estate, which is what happened in the Hardwick's relationship. So now, Dominic looked to Lionel as his paternal leader, and would never understand why his own flesh and blood would not worship him as he did.  
  
Snapping out of his reverie, a cell phone was produced and a scan off of dozens of saved numbers was conducted to find. . .  
  
V - Lor. . .  
  
He sat back and crossed his legs to get comfortable for his conversation with the CEO of V - Lor.  
  
A small netware company purchased by LutherCorp. eight years ago. . . It was intended that everything 'Luthor' would use V - Lor for any network, software or database need.  
  
Thus, allowing an occasional peek into anything and everything that the Luthor Empire touched.  
  
  
  
Including Smallville and its overly athletic High School.  
  
The conversation was short and sweet as he knew it would be. . . Of course, mentioning forced cutbacks and lay-offs always threw Americans into a groveling tizzy. Anything to avoid that.  
  
Wouldn't want the stock to plummet. . . might affect some poor bastards retirement.   
  
  
  
A few seconds of being placed on hold and then he was jotting down the CEO's own passcodes and filenames, giving him the ability to do whatever he wished. . . As long as Mr. Luthor understood how hard the employees of V - Lor worked for everyone's mutual success.  
  
Must have made an impression. . . Dominic thought to himself.  
  
As if one tiny company could make a difference.  
  
Which it wouldn't. . . it couldn't. But, in his arrogance, the CEO did not have the ability to understand that.  
  
  
  
Dominic ended the conversation by simply hanging up on the clueless twit and began hacking into Smallville High's database through the supposedly impenetrable firewall, designed as a curtain to protect the user's information from the overly curious public.  
  
In seconds he was in and saving all information collectable about Fordman. . . GPA, vaccination records, intolerable behaviors and suspensions noted, enforced psychological profiles, class schedules. . .  
  
Search concluded, Dominic backed out of the seemingly untouched database and went back to the net. He wanted to read bits and pieces off of the school's newspaper before going out for lunch and then making a visit to Smallville High.  
  
The newly created 'Kansas State Board of Education' identification slip fit neatly in the extra wallet he always had with him. It was time to dip himself into Whitney Fordman's world and determine if the boy was worthy of what he had in mind.  
  
  
  
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Arrangements and reservations were made for Lex to leave the country, beginning early Thursday morning.  
  
  
  
He would drive himself to Metropolis and catch an early morning flight to New York. This would mean he would have to leave Smallville around 5:00 am tomorrow morning, at the latest. From JFK there would be a three-hour ride on the Concorde, arriving in London at what would be early evening, considering the time line. A car and driver would then take him to Edinburgh, where he would spend the night.  
  
It would be on Friday that appointments made with significant people and scholars that worked for, and researched at the Roslin Institute had to be kept. A great deal of effort and cajoling assistants and secretaries was made by not only Lisa, but Lex himself in obtaining the meetings agreed to at such a short notice.  
  
But they were agreed to, and it was obvious that the name 'Luthor' had some familiarity within the institute. Familiarity that had neither favorable, nor ill, will laid upon it. . . familiarity that received instant recognition and acquiescence. A response that made Lex uncomfortable with the ease of which they would so readily see him.  
  
From the village of Roslin, Lex planned to travel to London after he was satisfied with what he would learn at the institute.  
  
He was going to visit Paulette.  
  
In doing these things, he was in hopes of proverbially 'killing two birds with one stone'. The trip to Roslin was for Lionel; the visit to London was for Merrin  
  
  
  
Lex stood out of his chair and stretched, hearing his joints and vertebrae pop and creak from his marathon of sitting at the desk. He rubbed his eyes, dry and scratchy from the hours of staring at the computer monitor or the telephone as he conversed on it. He wandered over to the bar, wanting a drink.  
  
Now that he had taken care of all other business, it was time to think about Merrin.  
  
  
  
It was now three o'clock on Wednesday afternoon.  
  
She will still be working. . . probably not back in the house until dinnertime. . . What is their dinnertime? Five?. Six?   
  
He had two hours to create a plan of action to regain her attention.  
  
Plan of action. . . get the mind out of the boardroom and into the personal life. Switch gears. . . as if it would be that easy.   
  
  
  
Lex walked across the study, sipping his scotch and finally coming to rest on the leather couch. He rubbed his hand along the fine soft hide covering the seat and remembered Clark jumping him on this very sofa. A tired chuckle and half-smile formed at the thought of Clark coming here to make life-altering decisions while under Merrin's inspiration. Now the whole thing seemed almost funny.  
  
Now I'm the one that wants to be inspired. . . He wistfully thought, practically emptying the tumbler of scotch with the way the thought frightened him.  
  
Cowardlike asshole. . . Irritation was building at the edginess brought on by her. . . the thought of her.  
  
Lex lay back on the couch, crossing his legs comfortably and throwing one arm over his eyes to block out any light. He needed to think. . . to sort things out and ask himself 'why'?  
  
Why did she seem to bring out the prick in him when that was the last way that he wanted to treat her? Why did being with her make him worry more about his similarities with his father than he ever did before? Why did she care?  
  
Why is she here? The obvious question to give an excuse for his poor behavior or paranoia. But. . . the real question was. . .  
  
Why do I care?   
  
  
  
He sighed deeply, knowing that it was his reluctance to admit that what was happening to him was changing him. Bringing out the bad with the good and it was his inexperience in facing these things. . . these 'emotions ' that were scaring him. It was easy to have sex. . . it was even easier to charm or play with romance. It was very, very hard to want. . . to actually need. To be accepted and give back in the same way. . . making things equal.  
  
Lex sighed again knowing that he characteristically did not know how to 'play' this way, to play equally. He had never needed or loved anyone else * this way * before. Of course there was Clark, whom he imagined he did love as a friend. But he didn't want Clark in the ways he wanted her. He had never wanted ANYONE in the ways that he wanted her.  
  
Want everything. . . Live, eat, breath, sleep, sex, think. . . dream. . . touch. . . be touched. Lex didn't understand the motivation supporting the physicality and why any kind of contact with her made him crazy with want.  
  
It had never occurred to him before.  
  
  
  
Random thoughts of Merrin began to interplay with his weary preparation of reclaiming her affection and sleep sneaked up on him, forcing him to rest his tired mind.  
  
~ + ~  
  
  
  
The dream was more about sensation than imagery.  
  
The mind's eye was sporadically focusing, as if the subject in the dream had his own eyes closed, only opening now and then to catch a glimpse. The lack of vision heightened the other senses; in this case the feeling of touch, and the weight and the warmth of his dream companion comforted him.  
  
The weight of a body lying upon his.  
  
The warmth of arms and hands around him. on him.  
  
Scent. heat generated brings a smell from before. triggers an image of sex. . . warmth. . . love.  
  
The compulsion of pulling closer. . . Smell and heat and taste. He can taste her in his mouth, sense his own mouth is blindly searching for hers.  
  
A vision of sunlight and syrup. . . something sweet. . . something nice and comforting.  
  
Euphoria of the act of breathing, pulling more than enough air into his lungs while kissing her. . . breathing in her scent. . . as if having the ability to breath underwater. . . effortless, joyous.  
  
Breathing in the ecstasy of being bounded by and then suffused by her body. . . All of it, over and around him, enveloping him in heat and slick-sticky sweet. . . Feeling of movement as she rises and falls, as he slides in and out. . . brain buzzing and heart soaring and moan slipping out with a breath. . .  
  
THUD.  
  
Sounding like a heavy glass thumping on the floor, dropping from his hand and waking him up from his dream.  
  
Lex froze and wondered if he had moaned out loud, wincing as his trapped erection twitched for his attention. Suddenly denied the mental stroking, it now demanded that he had to continue consciously.  
  
God, did I close the door? Fuck it. who cares. Need this. . . Need her.  
  
Zippered down and hand inside boxers, he was grasping with one hand and squeezing lower down through his pants with the other. The dream was still fresh and he wanted it to push him over the edge.  
  
The vision was clearer now, fueled by a wakeful imagination; conjuring her on top of him, stretched out but open enough for him to move along with the rhythm of her. Arms and hands alongside of his head and hair drifting down to tease his face. The smell was gone but he fantasized her voice repeating something known, yet completely foreign.  
  
'I do as I want. And I want to love you.' Her voice floated through his mind and he came suddenly with the fantasy, gripping himself in his climax, and finally allowing the trapped groan to escape.  
  
He lay there, recovering and realizing that it was now time to make his call to the farm. The first move of dozens to get her close to him tonight.  
  
Lex relaxed and understood the dream and all of his other thoughts before it.  
  
"I have to get you back." He whispered out loud.  
  
  
  
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Hiding in the loft before dinner. . . and after hiding all day in the fields. . . The only other human contact today being a man who told her to forgive and sacrifice for what she loves. A man whom she now reluctantly respects simply because he has come to care for her. . . As a child, as a daughter. as one of his own.  
  
Tiny, tiny Band-Aid for the ache that hasn't lessened since everything fell apart. Each hour that would pass seemed to increase the ache's volume, making the hour ahead more miserable than the one that had passed.  
  
Hiding in a corner. Hiding from herself. hiding from the force that would suddenly take her fresh memories and shoot them through her mind again, intensifying the ache with it's rawness and knowledge of immediate loss. Taunting the ache in her heart to make it hurt anew.  
  
Merrin had taken to hugging herself during the latter part of the day. It was minutely calming to hold on to the only thing she had. herself. In doing so she was trying to stop the imaginative thought of the ache ripping her heart inside out and having it burst from her chest to flop messily on the floor. She crossed her arms and held on, sitting on the floor of the loft and slightly swaying as if soothing a babe to sleep. eyes closed in the desperate hope that it wouldn't hurt so much in the future.  
  
She had to think about this. Everything that Lex had said to her. the things that Jonathan had told her this afternoon. Her confusion was fueling the ache and she had to at least gain control over that. Then, maybe, she would be more of herself. and less of. this pathetic, suffering 'thing'.  
  
The 'play' button is pressed; the slow, sad music starts. Quietly drifting to it's listener through the electrical drive thrumming in the wires of the headphones; an isolated moment for a solitary person needing to mourn a loss. A familiar song. . . once shared - the words now obviously rejected by the one carefully shared with.  
  
The words are known by heart. They shape and pull the thoughts of him in a relationship of questions and answers, uncertainty and understanding.  
  
  
  
Poor heart. . . The words are more significant now, than before, I made my choice.   
  
  
  
Meet me in the stillness Away from all this madness I'll give you a piece of me If you'll give me a moment. . .  
  
I barely had any time with you in the middle of the night and I gave you everything. You knew. . . You knew what it would mean for me. And yet, it was still taken, but for what? Why did you do it? .  
  
I looked into a stranger And found my soul waiting there It hit me like a siren To see myself everywhere And I saw that I knew him like the corners of my mind  
  
Everything there is. everything that was said and told and prophesized and then. to be inside. to be allowed, no. invited to have everything there is within you. Mine fits into yours, yours into mine. . . I found that in you. in your mind. Mind 'and' body. Body - but no soul? Where is your soul, Lex?   
  
And like every other soul You feel the night come on hard & go slow And life goes on and on and it goes. . .  
  
It must have been like anything else for you. only special for me. Your care and consideration could have just as easily been given to another. making me think at the time 'I' was an exception. that you had feelings for me. So naïve am I.  
  
So shed your skin for me Let's pull back the covers There's so much about ourselves We've yet to discover. . .  
  
I've learned that you're enveloped with the secretions of his darkness. of hate, allowing it to harden into a shell around your soul. encasing your heart. The substance of which is your father, having forced his foul festering culpability all over you. . . Undeservedly onto you.   
  
We pass on chances with our eyes to the ground It only takes a minute to see what's around But instead we choose to reside in the corners of our minds  
  
You are so deep within this; you cannot see what is in front of you. . . And you can be so much more than this. . . so, so much more. Why can't you see this?   
  
So I stand before you now Faulty but not broken. . .  
  
And sometimes sad like words unspoken But I'll let you in. . .  
  
  
  
*There is a small, self-serving chuckle *  
  
  
  
Ya. I'm at fault for my own tragedy. Stupid me. I let you in and now I'm the one that's 'sad'.   
  
The music drifts away quietly and the end is recognized.  
  
'Stop' is pushed.  
  
  
  
Silence fills the area before one last thought transpires.  
  
Beyond sad. Way beyond sad. . . I am broken. . . absolutely heartbroken.   
  
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TBC 


End file.
